


Something Stupid (Like a Romance Novel)

by AnotherAnon0



Series: A Complicated Affair [13]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst and (mild) Porn, Bottom!Sergei/Top!Wesker, Crossdressing Kink, Dark, Drunken Shenanigans, Failed Sex, Homophobic Language, Intentional provocation, M/M, Misgendering, One Shot, Sexist Language, Slut Shaming, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: After a night of heavy drinking and wallowing in self-pity, Albert catches Lord Spencer's cherished "trophy wife" alone.
Relationships: Sergei Vladimir/Albert Wesker
Series: A Complicated Affair [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827997
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Something Stupid (Like a Romance Novel)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetNsimple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/gifts).



Albert cursed as he stubbed his toe on yet another marble statue, stumbling jaggedly through the dimly lit pathway of the Estate's rose garden.

"Fuckin' piece of shh--" He slurred, "Goddamn pompous idio-- who putsa' fuckin' statue there..."

Unlike William, Albert didn't usually stay in Arklay. He hated Spencer. He hated Spencer's house. And he hated Spencer's ridiculous taste in landscaping, the cloyingly bourgeoise decorativeness of it all resulting in Albert losing his way to the wing which housed his room every time he returned to the Estate. 

But William was away for the week, having some sort of paternal obligation to take Sherry to an amusement park, and he'd left Albert in charge of putting the final touches on the cereberus prototypes. It hadn't been two full days before Albert felt like he was going out of his mind, and the blond had driven into nearby Raccoon City to have a few drinks at his favourite pub.

The drive back had been risky at best. 

He was lucky there hadn't been anyone else on the road with how he'd swerved and twirled the steering wheel casually. But Albert wasn't in a state to think, he had only wanted to drink and wallow in self-pity. 

_"I'm unapp.. reesh... ated..."_ Albert had said to the bartender no less than two dozen times after he'd dove into his fourth or fifth shot of tequila. Albert was an angry drunk if there ever was one, and the more alcohol that seeped into his veins, the more upset he became over his predicament in life.

He _hated_ having to play policeman at R.P.D.

He _hated_ how Umbrella consistently turned down his project proposals. 

He _hated_ that an incompetent, power-hungry, bumbling fossil like Spencer was signing his pay checks. 

And he absolutely, without a drop of compromise, _hated_ Sergei Vladimir -- Spencer's resident Russian. An annoying pest, sticking his nose into where it absolutely did not belong, judging his work despite having zero education -- scientific or otherwise -- whatsoever. The man was a military grunt, he didn't belong in a laboratory.

"I..m... a geniussz... I deserve m--" He hiccupped, looking up at a marble statue, "More th-than this...!"

As Albert continued to try and follow the grass pathway, occasionally getting his sleeve caught on a rosebush's thorns, he realised the mansion didn't seem to be getting any closer. He needed a purview -- somewhere he could stand and scope out the path back. Looking over the trees, he saw the tippie-top of the grand water fountain peeking out above the high flowers. Perhaps he could climb on that, he thought, ignoring his drunken state.

But the moment he rounded the corners he needed to, closing the distance between him and the fountain, he was struck seized in his steps.

A bit of sobriety non-consensually creeped through his brain as he attempted to process what he was seeing.

Undoubtedly it was Sergei. The monstrously tall body and silver hair couldn't be pegged to a single other person on earth. 

But he wasn't dressed... _normally_.

Rather than being adorned in the omnipresent, monochrome grey trench coat and boots, the Russian was wearing a _dress_.

A red dress.

One which had a deep slit up one leg, revealing his long, strong calf and thigh. 

The dress was beautiful, undoubtedly. It recalled old Hollywood, with its lacy, plunging neckline and chiffon cape fabric attached and draping off of his broad shoulders. But on Sergei it was the most bizarre of sights -- nothing about the man demanding the delicacy the fabric seemed to portray.

Sergei was standing _in_ the fountain, seemingly entertaining himself by wading through the cool, clear water and looking at his reflection. The dress' long hem floated around his legs like blood.

Albert's surprise-raised brows were quickly replaced by a smirk, a cruel mirth beginning to swell through his chest. He could taste the tequila on his breath as he began to laugh, having to stop to clear a hiccup from his throat before resuming his smarmy cackle.

Sergei's head snapped to look at him. His face immediately fell to a mask of shame, a flush of embarrassment coming over his pale cheeks.

"Oh, he even has on lipstick!" Albert's observation bounced through his laugh, "This is too good..."

Sergei waded out of the fountain, stepping down to the stone path below and clearing his throat. 

Albert was practically tearing up, unable to recall the last time he'd laughed so heartily. Sergei stayed quiet as Albert took a deep breath, recovering from his amused fit. 

"So what's this, then?" Albert asked, voice full of childish bravado, "Spencer's beloved pet is a bit of a faggot, is he?"

"I'm not." Sergei said firmly, raising his deep voice before dropping it to a whisper again, "I just... thought it looked nice, is all."

"Oh, it looks swell, Colonel Vladimirova." Albert said, grabbing the cape and rubbing the soft material in his hand like he were appraising it. Sergei snatched it away quickly. 

"Don't touch it!"

Albert put his hands up in mock surrender, scoffing a laugh. 

"Precious to you, hmm? Did _Lord Spencer_ give that to you?"

"Shut up!" Sergei spat, turning on his bare feet and striding towards an opening in the bushes nearby.

"Does he ask you to wear it while he fucks you? Play dress-up as his dearly departed wife, perhaps?"

Sergei stopped and turned back. His nose and cheeks were twitching, like he was trying to hold back tears, "Albert..."

"How big is his cock, dear heart?"

The taller man closed the distance between them rapidly, leaning down to hiss in Albert's face.

" _ **Bigger than yours**_."

Albert launched his fist into Sergei's cheek almost before the final syllable could leave his mouth. It connected with such force Albert could hear Sergei's teeth clatter, the older man taken off guard and falling to the ground heavily, his wet feet slipping on the stone tile below.

The way he fell, the slit that ran up Sergei's one leg fluttered open around his hips, revealing he was wearing an equally wanton pair of red, lacy panties. The delicate fabric barely covered his impressive cock, though it was clear that Sergei had put effort into trying to cover himself. The older man immediately tried shield himself when he realised he was exposed, grabbing the dress and pulling it over his hips. The redness of his cheek from the punch was quickly supplemented by a mad blush rushing over him.

Albert smirked, looming over him and licking his lips predatorily.

"You want to be a pretty little girl, hmm?" Albert crossed his arms, "Does Spencer treat you like a pretty little girl, Sergei? Do you like being his panty-wearing whore behind closed doors?"

"It's none of your _fucking_ busine--"

"You're always putting yourself in my business!" Albert screeched, spittle flying from his lips as he did, "You are _**ALWAYS**_ putting yourself in my business! Fucking pest!"

Sergei swallowed hard, pushing himself up onto his forearm. As he did, Albert dropped a knee to his chest, pinning him down. The blond put his other leg between Sergei's thighs, preventing them from closing fully.

Albert unsheathed his combat knife, holding it up with a smirk, "I'm going to ask you again. Do you want to be a pretty little girl, Sergei? Because I can show you what happens to pretty little girls who disrespect real men."

The blond dipped the knife down to comb along Sergei's cheek, the older man immediately letting out a deep, involuntary groan when the cool metal scraped his blossoming bruise. 

"So the gossip _is_ true. You're a bit of a masochist, hmm?" Albert liked his lips again, momentarily hypnotised as the knife reflected the moonlight, "That's why you haven't kicked me off yet. We both know you're stronger than me in hand to hand. And I'm a bit drunk..."

Sergei swallowed as Albert shakily dragged the knife over his jawline, the metal ringing as it shaved along his flesh.

"You want this."

He flicked the edge along the bottom of Sergei's painted lips.

"You wanted to be a pretty little girl tonight, didn't you?"

Albert chuckled darkly when he felt Sergei's cock twitching to life against his leg, his suspicions confirmed in real time.

"Well, I'm going to treat you like one."

"J-just... Don't wreck my dress!" Sergei spat, watching as Albert shifted off of his chest. The younger man smirked when Sergei spread his legs, letting him kneel between them without having to force his thighs open manually. 

"I won't wreck your pretty dress, sweetheart, I quite like it on you." Albert purred, shoving the red fabric to the side to expose Sergei once again.

"You do?" There was a tiny, hopeful hitch in the normally deep, rolling accent. 

Albert ignored Sergei's little mew for praise, grabbing ahold of a fistful of the lacy panties and taking his knife to the band.

"H-hey!"

"You said the dress... Not the panties..." Albert smirked, ripping the thin fabric from Sergei's body and exposing him fully.

Sergei had a perfectly smooth pubic area, like he'd gotten it waxed recently. Albert couldn't help but reach out to touch it, dropping his knife to the side unceremoniously. 

"Pretty little girl stays nice and clean for daddy Spencer, hmm?"

Sergei shivered as Albert stroked him, belly fluttering beneath the delicate fabric of his dress. Despite his massive size, the man almost seemed _small_ in that moment, hands curled into his chest, shoulders dropped and head tucked in. 

Albert ran his fingers along the length of Sergei's now-fully erect shaft, prompting a cute whimper from the older man. His cock was as huge as one would expect, thick and veiny, but velvety and soothing under the pads of Albert's digits.

Sergei spread his legs a bit wider when Albert's hand dropped even lower, rubbing his smooth perineum and playing along his twitching entrance.

"What a sweet, tight cunt." Albert smirked, "Are you sure daddy Spencer is bigger than I am? I would have turned this hole inside out by now."

"Sh-shut up!"

Albert unceremoniously wrangled his cock from his own pants, stumbling through unclasping his belt and unzipping his fly. He scoffed a chuckle when he saw Sergei prop his head up slightly to look, unscarred eye gleaming with tender curiosity. He licked the tip of his tongue over his painted lips quickly. Albert stood up on his knees, letting Sergei get the full view as he lubed up a hand with a glob of spit and stroked it over his half-hard manhood.

"Like it?" He smirked, suppressing a hiccup,"B-better than Spencer, right?"

"Just... do it!"

Normally, Albert was quite a considerate lover. He enjoyed preparation, foreplay, snogging, licking, sucking and being sucked -- he wanted to frot and spoon for hours. But there; Drunk. Kneeling on the cold tile in the rose garden. Between the legs of a man he despised. A man he despised who had no right to look as _sexy_ and _wanton_ as he did in that _fucking_ dress... Albert decided that all he wanted to do was plunge into Sergei's hole and rut like an animal for as long as he was physically able to.

Out of seemingly no where, Albert almost collapsed to his side, steadying himself with his arm before pushing himself back to his knees.

"Are... you okay?" Sergei asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

Albert spit a bit more on his hand, rubbing it against Sergei's hole, firmly massaging the muscle a few times.

The Russian moaned when he felt the tip of Albert's cock prod at him, not even remotely moist enough to guarantee for a smooth entrance. The sloppy attempt at a penetration, and the blunt pain it came with, made him smile deviously.

He'd always liked it rough. _Especially_ when he was wearing his dresses.

"You gotta'... tight... pussy..." Albert grunted, trying to force his hips forward, "Fuck-in... _gahh_!"

Albert finally managed to sheath himself after a few attempts, hissing in delight as Sergei's hole fully embraced him. The older man was warm and so, _so_ tight. If Albert hadn't known better, he'd have figured him a virgin. 

He paused for a moment to reorient himself, leaning over Sergei's body and planting his hands on either side of the man's broad chest. 

From his new position, he could look down into Sergei's face as he fucked him, something he desperately wanted to do.

Sergei's long, silver bang was fanned over his right side, covering his scarred eye. Albert teetered himself on a single palm for a moment so he could push the unruly strand out of the way, something that seemed to make Sergei cringe in discontent for a moment. His red lipstick was smudged slightly, and the punch Albert had landed on his left cheek was beginning to swell and bruise.

"Y-you look kinda' cute." He blathered suddenly, unsure of what part of his brain the comment had even come from. He cursed the usual sentimentality that normally overtook him when he was intimate, steeling his jaw immediately after he spoke. 

Sergei's unscarred eye lit up brightly for a moment, but he didn't say anything.

Albert paused again, his own eyes suddenly looking hazier then they had a second easier. Slowly, he began to drop down to Sergei's chest, collapsing lightly as the alcohol and exhaustion slammed into him like a bullet train he had been running from.

"Just... ah... a second..." He sighed, head pressing against Sergei's bosom, "Just one... one second..."

"Mm..."

"One... second..."

A second turned to a minute, and a minute to two. It wasn't long before Sergei heard loud snores and snorts coming from the younger man, who had clearly fallen asleep on top of him -- cock still stuffed in his hole.

He chuckled quietly, utterly amused.

While he would have preferred the sex to have continued, he found himself perfectly satisfied with this, too. It gave him a chance to tenderly touch the younger man in ways he knew he wouldn't have been able to otherwise, running his fingers along Albert's sweater-covered arms and dancing them through his tousled blond hair. It was softer than he thought it would be, though it was packed with gel.

"This was so stupid..." He muttered to himself, taking a deep, grounding breath of the rose-scented air.

His mind began to race over the little, inescapable details. 

Would Albert ever speak to him again? Would he care if he didn't?

Would he tell someone? Would anyone believe him?

What, if anything, would this change?

Sergei chewed on his cheek, rolling his head back on the cool tile. He looked up at the full moon hanging heavily in the sky, momentarily feeling like he was in a cheesy gas station romance novel.

He knew he'd have to wake Albert up at some point. But for now -- it was nice. 

Nicer than he'd been expecting.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I regret to inform SweetNSimple that I decided to FUCK UP their lovely idea. How many times is that now? Two? Three? I am a horrible friend. I am so sorry. 
> 
> But I could not resist making this a bit darker. I have a fic up (The Right to be a God -- still unfinished) where Sergei actually *does/did* have an inappropriate sexual relationship with Spencer and Albert was furious and jealous over it, so this was me riffing back off of that.


End file.
